


she

by hgbloodline



Category: Fine Line - Harry Styles (Album), She - Harry Styles (Song)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Drinking, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Rating May Change, based on the song she by harry styles, credit to l0user on youtube for the idea, listen to the fine line album while you read, the main character is a jerk but at least he's self aware
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:47:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26596279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hgbloodline/pseuds/hgbloodline
Summary: A businessman balancing family life and his career, Lucas finds himself seeking solace in two things, drinking and going to the local strip club. He knows he's an immoral man and yet he keeps coming back to the same place for one reason: one of the dancers. If he's going to continue to see her, his wife can never find out, or else his life will fall into ruins. There's just one problem with trying to find the dancer again, he doesn't even know her name.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 7
Kudos: 10





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> per request on youtube, i'm posting this! the next chapter will probably be up saturday and i'm going to try to stick to a posting schedule of once a week. enjoy :)  
> -k

8 am  
“Wake up, honey!”  
The man jolts up in bed as his wife calls for him to wake up from the other room. He looks around the room as light streams in the wide windows of their bedroom. He walks over to the mirror over their bathroom sink to splash water on his face before going to shower. Once he’s dressed, he runs a comb through his hair and is ready to face the day. He waltzes in the kitchen to see his wife making breakfast for the couple’s son and daughter. They’re running amuck around the kitchen, and he ushers them into the dining room as his wife brings two plates of french toast to the table. The two of them have a deal, one of them has to make breakfast everyday and one of them must take the kids to school. So, today it’s his turn to drop the kids off. He collects their little backpacks and takes them out to the car. His wife follows to tell them goodbye, and he quickly pecks her cheek. She straightens his tie before he slides in the driver’s seat.

9 am  
After the man drops his kids off, he has to go straight into the office. The same old routine every day, getting stuck in traffic on the way from the suburbia paradise of New Jersey where he resides all the way to downtown New York. When he’s finally there, a valet appears quickly for his car. He walks through the revolving doors with a briefcase in hand, ready to face the day.

1:32 pm  
The man sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon, disregarding her question of whether he’d like sugar or not. When she returns with the coffee and it’s not as hot as he’d like, he sends it back, much to her dismay. The two begin to argue against the assistant’s better judgment, and he threatens to fire her, saying she’s new and inexperienced. She calls him an asshole, which he most certainly is, but this isn’t a man who is used to being called out. He storms out, announcing that he’ll be taking the remainder of the day off.

3 pm  
The man takes a boat out for the rest of the day, not wanting to go home to face his wife or kids. He’s furious at first but slowly the regret for how he’d treated his assistant sinks in. Eventually, he becomes lost in thought, sailing the boat over the peaceful waves. He even imagines if everything was different, if he didn’t have his family and his job and all his friends tying him down to this life, could he simply just sail away? Would anyone care?  
And he knows deep down that they wouldn’t.

8 pm  
It’s past time that he should head home to his kids and wife by now, but the nanny was supposed to pick them up today so surely they’re fine. His wife is probably not even worried, he occasionally gets held up at the office past his usual 9-5 hours. The man ends up dining out, having a steak in a fancy restaurant all alone, spending far too much on a dinner for one just because he can. He knows he’s a miserable human, and that might be why he goes to the bar after his meal and downs a glass of bourbon. It burns his tongue and warmth spreads through his mouth. He asks the bartender for another one, and then another and another. After his fourth one, the bartender winces sympathetically at him. The man in question staring at him is a balding gentleman who looks more suited to a desk job than bartending, but nonetheless here he stands. The two make small talk for a while, but something deep within the man’s drunken brain realizes he desperately needs to be home by now. The man closes his tab and stands with great difficulty, his vision nothing but blurry shapes all running together. He’s able to make out some neon lights a few doors down from the restaurant once he’s outside, and he feels compelled to follow them to the source, going home a forgotten thought tucked away in his mind.

11 pm  
Beautiful women.  
That’s the first vision he sees when he pushes open the heavy door of the club with great effort, feeling weightless as he stumbles in. He’s a man in his 40s now so perhaps getting this drunk wasn’t a good idea, but there’s no going back now that he’s fucked up so hard.  
Silver poles shine in the bright multi-colored lights, the dancers encircling them as they do their sets. The man sees a blonde woman who vaguely reminds him of his wife for a moment, but that thought is gone as soon as it arises. His fogged judgment leads him to the corner where a brunette girl with more quiet beauty is dancing. More quiet in this case means less heavy make up, and you can tell by just glancing at her that she doesn’t need all that. She’s the kind of woman who makes herself a permanent residence in men’s daydreams. The man doesn’t know who she is, but that’s what seems alluring, that sense of mystery. He smiles in her direction but she barely registers it, so he resorts to the less sociable method of drawing a fifty out of his wallet and launching it in her direction. She deftly snatches it from the air, pocketing it in her bra. She turns towards him, willing to pay attention now that she has a reason to. Her eyes are so dark they almost seem black, or maybe that’s just the lighting. Her hair falls in curls down her back and she extends a manicured nail, beckoning the man to her. Feeling bewildered, he steps closer to watch her. She begins to slowly sway to the next song that comes on, moving her hands from her waist to tangle in her hair. She twirls around with practiced ease on the pole, making it look a thousand times easier than it is. He watches in awe as she performs her set, showering her in bills as the song comes to a close.  
“Oh my god,” says the man, failing to form a better compliment.  
“Yeah, I’m pretty glad my shift’s over now though,” she breathes, having stepped away from the pole.  
“Drinks are on me if you’re up for it,” he offers.  
She nods and he grabs her hand. They weave through the crowd together, and the man can tell she doesn’t do this with just any old guy. Or maybe she does, and all of this is just an illusion. Which one, the man will never know.

2 am  
The club happens to have a bar as well, albeit a more crowded one where hearing the person next to you is almost impossible.  
“You’re so beautiful if I’m being totally honest,” he says bluntly, not sure if he’s even audible to her.  
“I’ve gotten that a lot, but it’s normally from guys a good 30 years older than you,” and then she laughs, the sound pleasantly carrying somehow.  
He orders them both a gin and tonic because that’s what she tells him her go-to drink is.  
They talk about life, pretty much everything and anything. She comes to sit on his lap eventually after a couple of drinks and looks up at him with a glass in her hand, stunning.  
“Do you wanna go get out of here?” he provides  
“I think I’d like that,” she slides off his lap, grabbing his hand. As they walk out together, she worries the ring on his left hand. She says nothing but her face falls a bit, replacing the smile that had graced it only a few seconds before. She leans her head on his shoulder as the chilly night air hits them, and the man drapes his blazer over her shoulders as they walk, still hand in hand. He abruptly stops her to capture her lips in a kiss, and she places a hand on his neck to pull him in.

4 am  
They tensely wait in the lobby of the nicest hotel the man could find with an open room. He looks at her adoringly as new lovers do. As soon as the elevator ride is over, everything is suddenly moving so quickly. She unlocks the door. He pulls her in. There’s kissing and gasping and everything you’d expect. It’s perfect, and they uncoordinatedly go in together, the man barely able to shut the door behind them. 

8 am  
He wakes up the same way that he does every morning, slowly coming to his senses. But that doesn’t make sense, his wife is always up before him, so who is that? He blinks as he opens his eyes. She sleeps in his bed, right there and as real as ever. Surely not. Surely this is some sick dream. He shakes his head as if to clear it, but his hangover has set in. He paces about and pauses only when he sees the sun rising outside the hotel window. They’re on what must be the 50th floor or so. He stares out the window at the bay he’d sailed in the day before, contemplating what to do. It must be 10 minutes before he hears sheets rustle and she stands up, coming over to wrap her arms around him from behind.  
He can let himself get lost in this daydream where she lives, even if it’s only temporary.


	2. chapter I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been an ADVENTURE trying to get this chapter up on time, but i finished this in the middle of the night and i'm posting in the morning! there's some fun character development in here and yes, lou is named after who you're thinking of lol  
> have fun reading and more is coming soon!  
> -k

The daydream is broken as soon as he leaves the hotel. Last night was just a one night stand, but the man still gave the woman his phone number when she asked him.  
The man’s wife, Charlotte, is understandably furious when he comes home at long last, breath reeking of alcohol. He tries to kiss her to no avail, as he is immediately pushed away. Charlotte stands there with her arms crossed and her bangs falling over her eyes, not bothering to even so much as look in his direction.  
“Lucas, you can’t just leave me and the kids like that. At least your assistant called to tell me that you had stormed out of the office. I thought, ‘Well, he does lose his temper sometimes, surely he’ll be home soon.’ But then hours passed and you still weren’t back. Baby, I was so worried about you.”  
He didn’t deserve her. He didn’t deserve any of the women in his life but least of all, her. He needed to apologize before she left him for good.  
“Char, I’m so sorry. I didn’t do anything, I just got a bit drunk and-”  
“Do-don’t call me that right now. And while I believe you, trusting you again is going to take a while.”  
He knows he is blatantly lying now, and yet he continues, "I understand that. I'm here for you, Lou, and Oliver, I promise."  
His kids and wife are his whole world, and he hates that he risked losing all of that.  
Hurting the woman he loves had never been his intention last night.  
But he is nothing if not reckless, so now he has to watch this play out.  
He has to witness the demise of his life caused by none other than himself.  
-  
Lucas feels something (or rather someone) pull at his hair. He glances down to see his little daughter, Lou. He scoops her up, placing her on the bed next to him. She giggles as he kisses her forehead.  
“Hi, Lou, my little ladybug,” he exaggerates a huge yawn and she laughs again.  
Unexpectedly, she lunges at him, and he lifts her way up in the air. She’s only seven, and her brother, Oliver, is nine. Speaking of him, the bedroom door is cracked open and Oliver walks by, on his way downstairs.  
Carrying Lou, Lucas goes to talk to his son.  
“Hey, Ollie, how about we make some chocolate chip pancakes and surprise mommy?” he offers as the three of them walk together into the kitchen.  
Oliver’s eyes light up, and he grins at his dad, “Can we? I thought you said you sucked at cooking.”  
“Mister, you’re too young to be using that kind of language. And yes we can, if you go get the recipe, I’ll get out the ingredients.”  
He sets Lou down on a stool at the breakfast bar and gets out everything they’ll need. His son is right, he’s not adept at cooking. His wife is watching TV in the living room, some kind of reality show. She usually makes breakfast simply because she works from home and he doesn’t, and so he’s responsible for dinner. So, this was to make up for when he missed dinner completely the other night, for a reason that he’ll never let Char discover.  
They’re making pancakes when Lou begins to cry. She tried to get down from the breakfast bar stool but instead fell, bruising her knee. Lucas takes both her hands to pull her up. Her knee has started bleeding and she definitely needs a band-aid.  
As he goes to get her cleaned up, he calls over his shoulder, “Oliver, watch the pancakes for me, please.” Lou’s crying probably covers Oliver’s response, because he doesn’t hear anything.  
Lou grips his hand tightly and Lucas switches on the bathroom lights. He sits her down on the closed toilet and gets a princess band-aid out of a cabinet. She finally stops crying once he’s treated it, and the headache that was starting to form in Lucas’s head disperses.  
Suddenly remembering the pancakes, he dashes back to the kitchen. Oliver is playing on the living room floor with a toy train set he got for Christmas. 9-year-olds are so easily distracted that Lucas can tell just from the smell that the pancakes are long gone. Lou looks beyond disappointed as he scrapes the burnt, chocolate mess into the trash can.  
“It’s fine Lou, I’ll just order some breakfast to be delivered,” he offers. Well, at least he tried being a decent husband and father. It’s not his fault that it didn’t work out this time, is it?  
Lucas hears Char pause her show and come into the kitchen.  
“What happened?” she asks  
He explains, feeling he owes her the truth about something as simple as this.  
Her face falls again, but at the very least he’s stopped lying to her.  
For now.  
-  
The day passes lazily, with all of them staying in their pjs and watching Lou and Oliver’s favorite cartoons.  
“Daddy, why weren’t you home for dinner last night?” Oliver blurts. Lou is resting her head on her dad’s shoulder and is slowly falling asleep.  
“Let mommy explain, I have to go put your sister to bed.”  
Oliver nods, looking at his mom who in turn glares daggers at Lucas. He has it in for him later. He just knows Char is a better parent than he’ll ever be and she’ll take care of it. Whenever the kids have the most random of questions, she has the ability to find the perfect, age-appropriate answer.  
Lou’s fallen asleep in Lucas’s arms on his way up the stairs to her room. She looks so innocent, brown hair in little pigtails and a serene face, untouched by the harshness of life. She’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen.  
He gets to her white door, pushing it open slowly so it doesn’t creak. Her little room is decorated with a forest theme, a canopy with embroidered butterflies comes down around her bed. She stays asleep as he lays her down. He pulls the covers up, bending down to kiss her cheek. She smiles in her sleep.  
The light is out in Oliver’s room already. Char must’ve put him to bed. So that just leaves the two of them, and he has no doubt Char is unenthusiastically waiting for him in their room.  
He’s right, unfortunately, as she looks less than pleased sitting on their bed, arms crossed.  
She sighs, “I thought you told me I could trust you again.”  
“Char, you can, I just needed to put Lou to bed,” he lies through his teeth.  
Her head in her hands at the use of the nickname, she says, “I haven’t been able to pinpoint it, but there’s something you’re leaving out, Lucas. About that night.”  
His face grows hot, “I already told you everything, baby. Stop worrying so much so we can go to sleep.”  
“You’re such a difficult man, but I love you all the same.”  
That was the most straightforward thing he’d ever been told, but everyone needs someone to bring them back down to earth sometimes. His head had always been in the clouds, and he knew that.  
“I love you too,” he switches out the light, signaling the end of their discussion.  
He studies her face in the moonlight, Lou looks exactly like her.  
That breaks his heart a little bit.  
-  
Unable to sleep, he shuffles around before deciding to spoon Char. It’s comforting, knowing that she’s here for him even when she’s asleep.  
His thoughts are rampant, shifting between a multitude of things; he first thinks of work followed by his kids and then... her.  
Not his wife, oh no that would be a much too simple situation.  
He’s thinking of the touch of the woman he hooked up with while he holds his wife.  
It’s wrong, in fact, it’s completely immoral. Nonetheless, he finds himself needing more. He has to find her and learn her name. He has to find the woman who won’t leave his thoughts no matter how many times he pushes her out.  
Once he’s outside, he calls a cab to pick him up a block away from his house in order to not risk being seen. A black car is at the street corner he called it to within minutes, and he tells the driver to not ask any questions.  
Checking his phone, he notices it’s 1:32 am, almost 4 hours after he went to bed with Char. She probably has no idea he’s gone, and he even stuck his warm pillow up against her back to feel like he’s there. Some semblance of him, at best.  
He slips the driver a 50 and climbs out when he sees the street the club was on. His hands are trembling at the prospect of seeing her again as he spots the familiar neon sign that had drawn him there in the first place.  
He tries the solid door once, twice, three times. It doesn’t budge. Confused, he tries to make sure this is the right place before it hits him. A sign reading CLOSED is plastered to the door, which he had failed to realize.  
He stares down at his shoes, feeling as lost as a child in a big city. He supposes he is a manchild and Char would agree with him on that. Char is the only woman in the world who could ever love him. All he does is take, and she gives more than she has to offer. He hates himself for that, but he pushes it aside.  
There’s only one place left to turn to: the bar he’d gone to the previous night. The restaurant part is closed but the bar remains open for miserable patrons such as himself who need liquid courage to go face their wives. Is this who he’s become? An alcohol-dependent, lying, promiscuous shell of a man?  
He answers those dreadful questions with a glass of whiskey, which he absently swirls around in the bottom of his glass. The bartender chooses not to say much today, which might be for the better. He’s not in need of a friend, just a distraction. Drinking is perfect for that. It keeps him warm and tingly but still can’t kill him. The bartender would tell him otherwise, that too much whiskey has ruined a man before and will again, but Lucas seems to think himself immortal, or he might just not care whether he lives or dies. He’s found that it’s best to live that way. And in the corner of his eye, in the pit of his despair, he makes out something: an apparition clothed in black.


	3. chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! yes i'm well aware it's been 3 months since i've updated, but one of my new year's resolutions is gonna be to update a lot more. during this time, i've been focusing on my mental health and irl relationships, which has left me less time for writing. by the way, this is your reminder to stay hydrated and to please take time out of your day to take care of yourself.
> 
> i'm in the market for a beta reader for this series, so dm me on twitter at @/bloodlinemagic to chat about that and to potentially beta a separate series i have written already. thank y'all so fkn much for reading. it's just turned 1 am here, i'm gonna reply to any comments in the morning.
> 
> happy holidays.  
> -k

The apparition seems to have so many of the same features as whatever her name is. The definition of a femme fatale. But the closer she gets, the more Lucas sees that this woman’s face is nothing like the face of the girl he’s searching for. She even has a man on her arm and she sports a glistening diamond on her finger, almost gaudy in its size. No, from the one night he spent with the other woman, he can tell she’s more elusive than that. He thinks of stolen gazes, impulsive touches, when the woman he’s now searching for had stroked his ring finger while holding his hand and ruined nearly everything. He can’t blame her for it, for wanting more. She could’ve been equally as drunk as he was, just better at hiding it.  
It could be possible that he’s reading too much into it all, that she never wants to see his face again. That she knows that’ll be the first and last time she’ll sleep with a customer. One of her bosses could have yelled at her for it if they found out. But it’s useless to lie when she and Lucas had gotten along so well and fucked each other even better. While looking for her, he had at first told himself that all he wanted was to hook up with her again, except it’s become blatantly obvious that there’s something deeper than that. If he had wanted sex only, he could’ve taken his loving wife on a date, and let whatever happen simply happen... they’d been discussing having a third kid for a few months anyway. He’s forced to rule out that possibility, that it was just sex, since the connection was sincerely there on that lonely night. You don’t talk for hours and hours about your hobbies and your favorite drinks and everything except the woman you’re cheating on if it’s only a hookup. He could see them becoming friends in the future and genuinely enjoying each other’s company, but all of that is pointless.  
He’s never seeing her again, till the day one of them dies, if he doesn’t continue pursuing her.  
Life isn’t a movie, and it could never be that easy for him. To adapt to that white picket fence, idyllic family lifestyle. Throughout high school and college, women had always been rightfully pissed at him, because underneath all the sleazy charisma, he knew he was a douche to some of them. He’d cheat and spin the narrative on them, or worse: leave no trace behind and start over in a new city. He was in New York after a particularly nasty break up when he found Charlotte, who was extraordinarily out of his league and classy as all hell. She wasn’t so enthusiastic when they first met, blowing him off sometimes. That’s why he liked her, she kept his ego in check and grounded him. Ever since he had made it big as an entrepreneur, however, he had stopped spending time with her and the kids less and less, which not only made him feel like shit because of all the alcohol he was drinking without Char there to stop him but also had led him to meet her.  
After their last kiss on their single evening together, he had searched the hotel room up and down searching for something, anything, that would help him find her a second time. Now, reaching in his pocket he remembers the one thing he did find, in the drawer of the nightstand. It was nothing more than a scrap of paper, but he recognized her handwriting from when she had signed a form for the hotel room.  
A scrap of paper reads a single foreign word: lundi.  
That means nothing to him, and when he had originally pocketed it, he hadn’t thought to translate it. The only language he knows other than English is a little bit of Spanish from high school, so he was unable to put two and two together before. Pulling out his phone, he comes to a realization. The scrap of paper reads Monday in French. Today is Sunday.  
Knowing she’ll say something tomorrow, he hastily closes his tab and pushes open the door with shaky hands.  
-  
Lucas is the only person in the office who gets along with Elijah Langford. In fact, “getting along” isn’t the right phrase, the word “tolerate” is more suitable. His coworkers both kiss his ass and want to kick it. So when Langford suggests they go to lunch to discuss plans for the next quarter, they tell him it’s so thoughtful of him to ask them to go but say amongst themselves that they’d rather eat shit. Why? Well, anyone who’s met Langford knows that he rules with an iron fist. Some would call it that, and others would call it straight-up cruelty.  
It’s Monday, the day everything’s supposedly meant to go down for Lucas. He has his hand on the door of his boss’s office, poised to knock. But then he hears gruff yelling and a sniffle from someone who seems female. He realizes with horror that it’s his assistant, who hasn’t been going to work for the past week. She must’ve fucked up big time for her to have to negotiate with Langford, who’s notorious for firing people due to the smallest slip-ups.  
“I want your shit out of here by 5 pm. I’m calling security if it’s a MINUTE past then. Get your ass out of my sight. You’re a disgrace to this entire company. Chatting up my COO, trying to coerce him into doing you a favor? Disgusting. Now, OUT!”  
But… he’s the COO? Second in command to Langford, his CEO. She hadn’t chatted him up at all, that makes no fucking sense. All of a sudden, she’s shoving open the door, distraught. Her face lights up for a moment, her eyes zoning in on him as if he’s her last resort. He barely knows the poor girl, but still feels bad. It’s obvious she wanted this position so much, so why the slip-up? And there’s the underlying thing, why did Langford say that she tried to persuade him of something when she did no such thing. He’d have a word with his boss if he wasn’t so petrified of him. He watches her grow more distant, her flats making a quiet tapping noise as she walks towards the elevator. She runs her hand through her hair and presses the button once she’s reached the end of the hallway.  
And he stands there without saying a single word.  
What a selfish man he truly is.  
-  
Lunch is as expected. Bearable, but not by a lot. Langford is one of the wealthiest men that Lucas has encountered, and that is reflected in his taste for food. Their party of six ends up at Eleven Madison Park. The party consists of the two of them, Langford’s assistant, and three others who despise the man but are nonetheless coming along. It’s worth it in the food department, for the restaurant has stunning art deco style architecture and Lucas scans the menu for cheaper options before deciding on ricotta gnocchi with veggies. His boss insists upon receiving a wine pairing with each of their dishes, which Lucas deems highly unnecessary, but per usual he lacks the backbone to complain out loud. Sometimes he wishes he’d just get over himself, and stand up for what he thinks, no matter the consequences. He doubts Langford would ever fire his favorite anyway, so what’s there to be worried about?  
“Send it back, Marrion,” Langford is saying to an unamused waitress he’d flagged down perhaps too forcefully, “My fillet is overcooked to death, well-done almost.”  
“Sir, you never requested a certain-”  
“Are you trying to say you know more than the customer? A fatal mistake in business, sweetheart. I’m always right. Now, be sure the chef hears about this, or I’m never returning.”  
Bitter.  
That’s all Langford can be described as, with his dark circles and his ever-growing amount of wrinkles setting in. His hair had begun to be tinged with grey since Lucas had started working with him 5 or 6 years ago.  
Marrion blushes, scurrying off to avoid further embarrassment. It’s thinly veiled sexism honestly, with the use of “sweetheart” and the mansplaining. Lucas makes a note of attempting to steer clear of becoming the sort of man Langford is. And if he’s not watchful, it would be all too easy to slip into that lifestyle.  
“Ah yes, and what about you Luke? How are Charlotte and the kids? Oliver’s gonna be a heartbreaker one day, I swear to god,” and Langford laughs at his own half-assed joke, prompting the whole table to follow suit out of concern for what he might think.  
There’s Emery Claude, head executive of the PR department and another of Langford’s favorites among Lucas. She’s holding hands with Ian Livius underneath the table, for office romances are strictly forbidden under Langford’s watch. God forbid a couple finds happiness ever since Langford’s wife, Sandy, left him for cheating on her years back. Emery and Ian are lucky that Langford isn’t quite as observant as he once was. Oh, and there’s one last person at the table other than Langford’s assistant. A man with the name John Romero who Lucas has some serious blackmail on. Potentially career-ruining shit, but he’d never speak a word of it. Both their reputations and relationships would be over. Gone. Still, that night is like no other he can remember.  
It’s so tiring, the thought of that night, that whenever it surfaces he pushes it down. Just like with the girl from the other night. He gets lost in thought, his eyes boring a hole through the window. A woman clutching shopping bags in each hand wearing a floppy hat and sunglasses dashes past the restaurant window. Shifting all of them to one hand, she manages to lift a cigarette to take a drag. She adjusts her hat and puts out her cigarette in a nearby ashtray, then proceeds to step inside the restaurant, making it all seem too good to be true. It’s her, in the flesh, not the ghost of her that appeared to him the other night. He sees John and Langford are deeply engaged in conversation, and this could be his only chance. It’s most likely pure coincidence, and she could’ve been shopping around the Flatiron district. It’s not like she caught wind of where he was going and came here looking for him instead of coincidentally stumbling across this place for lunch. No, he’s supposed to be the pursuer, but she’s proving him wrong.  
“Langford and Romero, if you’ll excuse me I’ll be using the restroom,” is what he tells him, and after receiving little more than a flippant hand gesture from Langford, he goes.  
His pulse quickens just enough to be noticeable, and it’s as if it’s their first meeting all over again. She’s at the hostess stand now, and he feels an uncontrollable smile spreading across his face at the very sight of her. A lovely black dress and her hair in an updo.  
“Long time, no see,” he cringes, immediately regretting the cliche.  
Her jaw drops, “I- I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again! Did you get the note?”  
He nods, figuring the fewer words the better, and awkwardly waves towards the restrooms. Taking the hint, she tells the hostess, “Cancel my table, I’m with him.”  
She reaches for his hand, and that’s when it becomes clear; she knows nothing about his whereabouts. Otherwise, she’d be educated on how that’s his boss over there and Langford is under the impression that Lucas is a faithful family man. Despite being far from it, he can’t let his guard down. So that’s why he puts his hand in his pocket and makes no big show of pulling her into the restroom. They’re unisex, so that’s hardly an issue. And even better, unoccupied.  
Picking her up as if she’s a doll, he sets her on the counter of the sinks. He’s leaning in for what feels like their first kiss when she pushes back at his shoulders, nearly making him fall backward.  
“I need an explanation before we start this up again, baby,” which feels like it should be an answer as to why she stopped him but instead poses a new question. They’re doing pet names now? He’s hesitant in his response, waiting for a few beats.  
“Is something wrong, darling? I thought this was gonna be a no questions asked situation.”  
“Yeah, yeah, it’s just… it’s so fucking stupid. Can I get your name?”  
“Lucas and I’m not sure why I withheld it.”  
“I had a reason for not mentioning mine, and it’s gonna take you a minute to get it.”  
“Now come on, it can’t possibly be that bad.”  
“It’s different for me, I believe that there’s immense power in a name. Notice how you didn’t also tell me your last name? See, you were scared of what I could do. Google you, tell your wife about us, hell I could hire a hitman on you. But I wouldn’t, Lucas, because you trusting me with your name when we’re in this arrangement is something I appreciate.”  
“I’m extra interested to know yours after all of that.”  
“I have two names, but of my own accord. Alexia is the one you should call me by at the moment since I call it my ‘daytime name’. I’m saving my ‘nighttime name’ for another time because this shit usually confuses people enough on its own.”  
“Alexia, it’s beautiful. Don’t worry about me, I’ll figure it out. It’s my own fault if I don’t, not yours.”  
“Thank you, Lucas. And as much as I want to kiss you right now, I think you’ll have to settle for this,” she reaches over, tilting his jaw up with one hand and kissing his cheek, her lips only inches from where they belong. Whether or not it’s intentional, he lets it go, and Alexia hops off the counter just in time for a stranger to casually walk in. The tension hanging in the air dissipates, as he knows that a kiss is off the table.  
“Do you have your phone with you?” she motions for him to hand it over.  
He watches her expression as she presumably types her number in. Without a word, she sets in on the counter, looking rattled and opening the door by leaning into it.  
There’s some kind of sinking feeling lingering in the pit of his stomach, at the possibility this could be the last time he gets any kind of kiss from her for much too long.  
Guess he’ll have to settle for who he’s meant to love, even though it was her who settled for him in the first place.  
-  
Charlotte, Lou, and Oliver are all having a family dinner with him and eating a delicious soup that Char made from scratch when he gets a call from who he assumes is Langford or someone. He jumps, asking Char if he can take a business call. She grimaces and ignores him, continuing to entertain Lou with “here comes the airplane” so she’ll finish her soup. Lucas ruffles Oliver's hair, and for one moment, one split moment, he feels as if he’s a normal father and husband again. Yet, he’s just lied to go answer his mistress’s calls, if that’s what you’d call Alexia. Actually no, there are many names you could call Alexia, which she’s even admitted, but that’s not one of them. She’s worth more than being lumped in with other mistresses.  
Standing in the hallway adjacent to the kitchen, he takes the call.  
“Alexia speaking.”  
He laughs, “You’re the one who called!”  
“You took so damn long to answer I forgot who I even rang.”  
“I was trying to get away from, y’know.”  
She does know, too well even. A professionally taken photo of him and his wife with the kids is his phone wallpaper.  
A pause, and then, “You’re meeting me at the club on Friday. No exceptions.”  
“I’m not su-”  
“If you stand me up, I’m never speaking with you again,” she deadpans.  
“That’s not the most unbelievable thing you’ve told me, but then again, there’s a lot to choose from.”  
“I hate you. See you Friday when the club opens.”  
“Or not.”  
“You wouldn’t.”  
The sad part is how she has him down so well already.  
He wouldn’t have it any other way.


	4. chapter III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i'm sick and don't have the energy to make this chapter longer so just have these two scenes i wrote a week ago. yeah? ok bye.
> 
> -k

“I can’t do this anymore, Alexia.”  
They’re back in the hotel room, the same one they rented the first night. He surveys it, not having taken it in when they paid their last nighttime visit. A white bed pushed up against the wall is the main focus of the room, and the two of them are seated in blue chairs opposing each other. A wooden table with some of Alexia’s magazines and a tea set spread across it serves as a boundary between them. The wallpaper looks dated, from perhaps the 1920s, but everything else is modernized in a rustic kind of way.  
He recalls the whole road adjacent to the hotel had been closed for the hotel’s renovation a few years back, something that had pissed Char off because it meant he always got home from work late. Now that was a regular occurrence, and he was sure she lacked the energy to mind it anymore. It was pretty much unspoken between them, that unless one of them was out for a ridiculously long time like Lucas had been a few nights back, that neither of them really cared where the other was.  
Alexia keeps her hands empty, palms up on the table as if she wants him to grab them. It reminds him a bit of a police interrogation and it makes him as uncomfortable as one could imagine. She had, at first, moved to sit on the couch before he had shaken his head, gesturing to the chair she was now delicately perched on.  
“Why? There’s something we have, something that she could never give you. I’m your best choice. Leave her already, there’s nothing preventing you from it,” She lowers her voice, “You could have a quiet divorce, no need to make a big fuss. If you didn’t keep it quiet, I’m sure the tabloids and others would eat it up, the COO of such an important company stepping down to run away with his mistress.”  
“You obviously don't know me well enough to know that’s nothing like me. I don’t just give up on things that are this important, I mean, I have two kids to think about for god’s sake. They need a father figure that I sure as hell didn’t have.”  
“You’re never home anyway, so what difference could it possibly make? Your wife would get custody of them, and you could be on the first plane out of New York with me. We could travel the world; you have enough money for both of us to live comfily.”  
“No- it’s not right, as much as I want you.”  
“That’s another thing, you might want me, but what do I get out of all of this? Being your girl on the side? That’s not how I live my life, despite how it seems to you. Strippers aren’t sluts. We’re humans.”  
“Well Alexia, I’m sorry, I’m not meaning to treat you badly. I’m just so confused-”  
“Don’t be. It’s simple: do you want a sense of security, or a sense of excitement for once in your, not to be rude, your very fucking dull life?”  
“I’m not sure why it all has to be an ultimatum. I could keep both of you happy if I tried more. I need a little more time, that’s all. You don’t understand, I can’t leave her.”  
“Mon cœur, you have to decide soon. Your wife is gonna find out sooner rather than later. I’m not sure what you take women for, but we can tell almost immediately if you’re-” she roughly grabs his hand, pulling at his ring and carelessly letting it drop to the ground. The noise it makes when it clatters on the ground makes no sense. It’s the sound of a plate shattering, not a ring softly landing at his feet. Remaining silent, he scrambles to collect it, and regaining his composure, takes a seat again.  
“Make your decision. You’ve only got so long before both of us leave you.” With that biting remark, she leans down to press her red nails into his arm, leaving marks of the same color on his tricep. The opal pendant of her necklace dangles in front of his face and her features remain indifferent, a plastered-on poker face.  
He’s intrigued, hooked on this new emotion, so different from the monotony of his relationship with Char. When she’s gone, it starts seeming like she was never there to begin with.  
He rubs his arm, expecting it to hurt, but he’s met with no pain. Pinching his arm once more, he realizes the only place he feels any sensation is his lips.  
I better lay down, he thinks, oblivious to how he already is.  
-  
Someone’s kissing him when he stirs, squinting blindly, and his stomach fills with butterflies. Alexia? There was only one room key, so how could she have gotten back in? But no, that dream was nothing more than a manifestation of his current deepest fears. Alexia doesn’t want to leave him, and Char still loves him, right? He doesn’t easily compromise, and he never has. Still, he doesn’t wake up to the girl he wants kissing him. And it’s wrong, so fucking wrong. He wakes up to a routine, guilt rising in his throat. He’s gonna throw up. He sees Char’s wild eyes as he heaves himself up, weakly pushing her off of him.  
“Lucas!” she calls after him as he grabs some clothes, quickly changing in their en suite bathroom. She knocks twice on the bathroom door. He gives her no answer, although he’s dressed now.  
“Baby, where did we go wrong?” Her muffled voice asks through the door, and he hears her slide down the door to sit on the cold linoleum tiles. He joins her, feeling defeated.  
She continues when she’s met with silence, “I know you’re seeing someone. Don’t hide now, honey, when you’ve already kept so much from me. And her name, I heard you say it in your sleep. I thought maybe if I kissed you, you’d think you’re kissing her, and that when you woke up, you’d have me. I want you to have me, no one else. That’s why I fucking dedicated my life to you.” He hears bitterness seep into her voice, “And this is what I get in return? I could be off doing something I genuinely want to do. Instead, Lucas, we’re stuck at a dead end. I’ve loved you for ten years. And you know what? People like me don’t stick around for a decade without a reason. I never could commit to a relationship, till that day I saw you. I thought, if I died next to you, it would all be worth it. Sure, at the time I played it off because we were not only young but so stupid. I’m neither of those anymore, and I see past the front you put up. I see you for who you really are. I used to think you were a good man since after I helped you sort through all your baggage, you were an honest husband, a loving father, a charming lover. All of that? It’s gone now, and I have no idea where it went.”  
He hears her sniffle, and he imagines what she looks like right now. A mess, surely, like he is. He fumbles with the cuffs of his dress shirt, rolling and unrolling them carelessly.  
“You’re not the same- the same man as the one I fell in love with,” she swallows hard and her head makes a thunk against the door, “Don’t you have ANYTHING to say? Don’t you have one last attempt left in you to keep me from leaving you? Maybe you’re so entitled that it hasn’t hit you yet and you’re thinking ‘She’d never leave me.’ Even a week ago, you’d be right. But if I told you that I’d never leave you now then it would be nothing more than a lie, one that you could see right through. We’ve had enough of those. I’ve had enough of your shit,” she laughs sardonically.  
Barely half awake when he had entered the bathroom, this had all been a shock to Lucas, like being doused with ice water. It had woken him up faster than any coffee ever did. Adrenaline pumps through him, and his heart feels caught in his throat.  
The nightmare’s coming true, is his only thought.  
“I’ll get packing, but don’t say a word of this to the kids yet, okay?” he timidly requests.  
“If that was an attempt to come off as anything but self-absorbed, it was an awfully good one. But I won’t. It’s not the right time for Oliver and Lou to know, especially not Lou.”  
“I’m sorry that I could never be the man you thought I was. I never can be.”  
“Are you really? Or are you just scared?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to my long time readers for putting up w me and my nonsense, love y'all. i'm thinking this series is only gonna be about 10k-15k and i'll resume writing when i don't feel like spending all day laying in a dark room with all the lights off anymore. but honestly, i'm laughing because thinking 2021 would be any different from 2020 is the stupidest thing i've ever believed
> 
> feel free to pester me to update on twitter @bloodlinemagic where i will undoubtedly be tweeting because life is shit and i forgot i was meant to be writing this again.


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